Lessons from Abroad

I'm Angelle Fouther, Principal of Kindred Communications LLC, a firm committed to strategic support of groups and organizations dedicated to social justice and equity. I recently traveled to the Mediterranean with my husband and was inspired to share these thoughts.

I just returned from a 16-day journey through the Mediterranean, thanks to my husband, James, who meticulously planned every detail. Our journey took us through Rome, Civitavecchia, Istanbul, Athens, Ephesus, Santorini, Mykonos, Naples, Sorrento, and Crete. On the surface, it was travel; in spirit, it was pilgrimage.

Each place shimmered with beauty, in the sweep of landscapes, the curve of ancient walls, the vivid palette of people and food, the cadence of voices raised in laughter and song. Beneath the beauty lay resilience—cultures that endured conquest and collapse, religious shifts and political upheavals, yet still carried forward traditions recognizable across millennia. Everywhere, history whispered its reminder: empires may rise and fall, but culture persists.

In Crete, churches told the story of faith and power across centuries. Catholic foundations became Orthodox sanctuaries, then bore the marks of Ottoman rule when no new Orthodox churches could be built. Later, Muslim design elements were woven into Orthodox structures, and in some cases, commerce itself animated the stones. Each layer was a testament to continuity through adaptation.

Crossing briefly into Asia, in Istanbul and again in Ephesus, we encountered civilizations stacked upon one another. Mosques and Byzantine remnants stood side by side, and in marketplaces, daily life spilled over ruins once walked by philosophers and emperors. In Civitavecchia, Rome’s seaport, medieval fortresses, Roman walls, and modern life existed seamlessly together.

What struck me most was not only what we saw but what endured: language, music, food, ritual, and above all, the love of family. These threads bind humanity across centuries. Power recedes, borders shift, rulers vanish, but culture remains.

Viewed from these ancient places, America feels impossibly young. So much of the energy (especially now!) seems consumed by attempts to strip culture down to categories of Black, white, and brown, in service of greed and division. But greed and violence do not outlast their moment. Culture does. The question is what stories, traditions, and values we will choose to preserve and carry forward.

Meeting people from across the globe on this journey reminded me of that truth. Each was passionate about their heritage, proud of what had been passed down, eager to share its richness. That insistence on culture—on beauty, joy, and family—is what binds us, and what gives me hope.

In the end, this was more than a mere trip. It was a reorientation, a reminder to look not only at what is fragile and fleeting, but at what is enduring. And to ask, again and again: what will remain of us?